The king’s court met on the cold winter morn. Knights and their squires shuffled into the room, guarding all the doors. The illustrious Queen Emilia Reynard entered the throne room with her personal bodyguard, who also happened to be her second born son Seymour. She took her place at the bejeweled seat beside the main throne. Her son stood at her side. The court grew quiet as the doors opened, and their middle-aged, but handsome King Fenton Reynard entered the room. Wispy hair trailed from beneath his golden crown, and he had not trimmed his beard in several weeks.

Once the king had sat down on the massive throne, his aide began to speak.

“My Grace, permission to speak?”

The king nodded.

“For those of you who haven’t heard, three men have declared themselves kings. The Lord of the Mountains, the Lord of the Deserts, and the Lord of the Isles have all been declared as kings. All of them agree that the King of Mirwyth and all the islands surrounding it should give up his throne or face persecution.”

Silence followed. One man stopped mid-cough, afraid to disturb the stillness. Everyone waited on the king to say something.

“Murder them.” The King’s voice boomed in the room. “Send all of our knights against them. Meet them in battlefield, send their heads flying from their necks, and stick them on the highest point of the castle so everyone may be able to see them in their glory.” His aide looked throughout the court. The King’s oldest brother, one of the court members, decided to speak.

“Your Grace, if I may.” His brother stood. “Combined, they are too strong. All of their armies united against you would prove to be too much for the lords and the knights behind us-”

“I do not care.” King Reynard cut off his brother. “I control all the lands. I am the rightful king of all of Mirwyth, not just mountains, or deserts, or isles. My father controlled this kingdom, as did his father before him.”

“Brother, I know of the king’s line-”

“Silence.” The King’s icy blue eyes glared at his brother. His voice was like thunder during a summer storm. His queen even looked frightened. “I will do as I please, brother. I am your king, and I command these traitors be murdered. I will lead the army if I must, with my sons by my side.”

His brother nodded and sat back down. The King turned to the aide.

“Prepare the knights for war. I shall have these false kings' heads, and show all those who dare have opposition who the rightful king is.”

A War of Kings

For many a century, Mirwyth has been controlled by a single king. All the mountains, all the rivers, all the islands, controlled by a lone man. The former king, a knight and descendant of the first king of Mirwyth, was adored by all. Several of his laws perfected the marketing and unified the kingdom as a whole. Then, one night, he was poisoned. A subtle droplet into his wine glass, and he was dead. In his death, his oldest child became king. Fenton Reynard, the son, was the opposite of his father. Cold and stern, he destroyed much of the progress his father had made.

Three of the former kings oldest friends, lords of the lands, opposed the new king. Overnight, they decided to declare each of them kings of a different region, and they were to bring the new king down. Each of them earned a name for the land they controlled.

The King of the Isles, the King of the Desert, and the King of the Mountains rose to popularity with many. But some were loyal to tradition. The new king, while cruel and hard, was the rightful king. He was the oldest son of his father.

Sides were drawn, and the weapons were gathered. Because the one and only battle in the plains between the isles and the mountains and the deserts was coming soon.

Very soon.

Characters

You can be anyone. A knight, a princess, a lord or lady, a peasant. A single person can turn a war completely around. This game was only planned to last during the temporary boards time, so everyone may seem to be far apart at the beginning, but it all wraps together rather quickly. Make a character as unique as you’d like. An ugly princess. A crippled knight. Anything. My final note about characters is that characters WILL die. Maybe even a lot of them. This is a war.

Just PM me a filled out character sheet below.

Name:Age:Gender:Appearance:Homeland(The Mountains, the Desert, the Isles, or the Capital City):King(King of the Mountains, King of the Desert, King of the Isles, the Rightful King, None):Occupation:Family Banner(if applicable, just describe):House Words(A saying the family uses):Biography:

Old Players: You may go ahead and post your character sheets with an update on what has happened in game.

Name: Lorain Ashkey (Lorel)Age: 17Gender: FemaleAppearance: A very LARGE girl, at 6 feet, she draws attention. Long brown hair kept
tightly braided, and grey smokey eyes, she can looks quite feminine when she wants, but
usually keeps it well hidden. Her body shows the effects of working with hot metals,
when not covered. Muscular, and very tanned, She is often dressed in tanning leathers,
with bits of chain to protect herself from the heat she works with. A huge leather apron
covers her, and high boots, making it even harder to tell she is female. A blue scarf to
keep away the dust and soot usually completes her normal appearance.Homeland: The DesertKing: None: Whoever pays for the workIGNORE the costume!!
...But the body build.. and attitude hehe

Occupation: Blacksmith/WeaponsmithFamily Banner (if applicable, just describe): Symbol - an A large hammer over an AnvilHouse Words (A saying the family uses): A hot flame, and a sure strike.Biography:Lorain, called Lorel by her father was his first child. Her parents, (Fendon
and Murel) loved their child, born in the high mountains. Her mother, was from the
mountains, and met her father as he came through, plying his trade. As a
Metalworker/blacksmith, he makes quite a decent living, as his services are always
needed. For ten years, as Lorain grew, her father noted her size and strength, and for
ten year, allowed her to study in the trade. It was during this time they moved to the
land of sand, the desert. Not too long afterwards, her brother Mangus was born. Finally
glad to have a son, her father let her continue plying the familiy trade, until Mangus
grew large enough to help, and then started to train him in the family craft.

Lorain however was not going to stop, simply because her father now trained another. She
began to developed her own skills, using some of her inventions to help her ply her
trade. She moved from blacksmith, to weapons making, often sitting back and listening to
other traders as they passed through their lands, plying them for secrets.

When not in long dresses, hiding her well muscled body, she is dressed as her father and
brother, with long leathers, pants and tunics, and blacksmiths apron. Quickly realizing
that she would never be a 'little blossom', so father taught her to fight, and she can
take a punch better than most men. Her favorite weapons are twin hammers, that she uses
in her shop, and are quite hefty. Around the fires, she frequently keeps her face
wrapped to avoid breathing in the smoke, so most do not realize she is female at first.

And she likes it that way. It frees her mind to come up with the many designs for
weapons and other crafts.

**Update*
Her father was murdered by pirates in an attack on the desert city of Caraba. After being captured, Lorain jumped ship, with help from another captive. She is now on the coast near Aqarda, making her way to Fair Groves, to the family of Willis Kildare, where she hopes retaliation will be swift and painful for a few pirates.

Name: Gwenn CliffeAge: 26Gender: FemaleAppearance: She has a head of unruly dirty-blonde hair which is cropped short, and upon first glance she is nearly always taken for a boy. Her eyes as grey and stormy as the sea around the Isles. She has a boyish figure, strong and lean from a lot of lifting and carrying. The skin on her freckled face is starting to weather slightly due to the winds and sea-spray of the coast. She refuses to be seen in Skirts, and instead, dresses in worn jerkins and shirts, trousers and old but sturdy leather boots, sometimes a simple hooded cloak depending on the weather.Homeland:The IslesKing: King of the IslesOccupation: Servant of House Moorecroft / Dock WorkerFamily Banner(if applicable, just describe): She has no banner of her own, but the sigil of house Moorecroft is a loop of mooring rope in grey on dark slate blue field.House Words: The words of House Moorecroft are: “Fierce seas and Howling winds can humble the hardiest of men”

Biography: Gwenn’s life has been one of hard work and servitude for as long as she can remember. Born and raised in the wind beaten Isles, She is not of noble birth or wealthy house. A baseborn child, She was born to a woman named Harriet, a Scullery maid and a servant of a Wealthy house named house Moorecroft.

The Moorecroft’s were a family of Ship-wrights, who loyally serve the King of the Isles, providing the King with strong sturdy ships as well as controlling one of the busiest ports in the Isles. Her mother had come into the Moorecroft’s service at a young age and served faithfully. A hard life she had, but despite this, she was content. One autumn evening, a large trading Vessel from the mainland docked in the port. It’s captain and his retinue had been invited to the Moorecroft’s large mansion in order to broker deals with the ship-wrights. Among them was a young sailor, dark of hair with piercing grey eyes and a charming smile. Despite her efforts to resist, He managed to steal her heart and they entered a secret whirlwind affair. It wasn’t until the ship and its crew left the isles a few weeks later that Harriet discovered she was with child.

9 months later Gwenn came into the world, but without a father. After her birth, Her mother still served the Moorecroft’s but her reputation had been tarnished considerably. The other servants became a sort of extended family to Gwenn as she grew up. The chamber-maids her aunts, the stable hands her uncles. Sadly, her mother died of the flux when Gwenn was seven years old. The loss of her mother hit Gwenn hard, and she was raised by the other Servants of the house. She started to work on the docks when she was in her mid teens, preferring to be working out in the open air then scouring pots in the Kitchens or sweeping out Cellars. She shows the same dedication to the Moorecroft house as her mother did, and is often called upon to run messages and errands for the house

Gwenn was given the surname Cliffe, the Surname given to Bastard children of the Isles, and as such she is often the subject of ridicule and judged for being born out of wedlock. Having grown up on the Isles, she is a strong swimmer and feels comfortable on on the water. She can’t read or write very well, but she has street smarts and quick wits and they have served her well so far. She may seem a bit hard faced and distant at times, a product of her up-bringing, but she can open up if someone tries enough

Update: After witnessing the death of a co-worker at the hands of Lord Moorecrofts son Slade, Gwenn found herself drinking at bloody breeze inn, when the unexpected arrival of the king of the Isles, Nathaniel Delmari, caused a stir amongst the patrons. The king seemed to take a strange interest in her, so much so that he requested to see her privately at the main house of the Moorecroft estate. She was helped to prepare by Lukas Cliffe, a fellow servant who confessed he had feelings for her, and a strange bearded man, a merchant named Abbott Tuckman. Now once again in the kings presence, Gwenn wonders still about this mans interest in her, and what it all means

Name: Sir Lawrence Kildare
Age: 28
Gender: Male
Appearance:
Homeland: The Desert
King: The King of the Desert
Occupation: Knight Commander of the Fair Groves
Family Banner: An orange fox on a lime field
House Words: What Has Been Said in the Darkness Shall Be Heard in the Light

Biography: No land of Mirwyth is more misunderstood than the Desert. It is not simply a vast expanse of dunes of sand, devoid of vegetation. There is great beauty there...and great wealth for those with patience and foresight. When House Kildare claimed what would become known as the Fair Groves, they exercised both. Then the bleak lands had yielded little. Given time the Fair Groves bore fruit—literally. Season by season, the citrus trees that House Kildare oversaw took root in the arid soil and bloomed. Seeds from these forebears were planted and tended with care. Now the oranges, lemons, tangerines, limes, and grapefruit of the Fair Groves are traded throughout Mirwyth. They are not a great house, but House Kildare has been schooled by the Desert to be well pleased with well enough.

Why exactly House Kildare practices female primogeniture is disputed. Some say isolation forced on them by the Desert and the resulting infrequent contact with other noble houses meant that eventually there were only women left to lead. Others stories claim that Covina Kildare so captured the heart of her husband that he handed her his right as a wedding gift—but then other accounts say when he was in his dotage she stole it. Whatever the circumstances, today women lord over House Kildare.

Though other firstborn sons would chafe at being passed over, Lawrence Kildare never expected to rule over the Fair Groves. Though he was the eldest child of Emilie Kildare, Lawrence knew that it would be his younger sister, Ginnifer, who would assume the mantle of leading House Kildare. Accordingly, Lawrence set himself to the study of warfare and tactics, a useful occupation at any time in Mirwyth. When the coastal cities of the Desert came under the attack from pirates, Lawrence reported for duty to defend the cities with Kildare troops called for by the Lord of the Desert. Lawrence was initially assigned to the defense of the prominent coastal city Caraba. However, the knight requested a more junior position at Aqarda—which he privately deemed more likely to be attacked than the well guarded Caraba. The request was granted.

Lawrence's analysis was prescient. The pirates came en masse against Aqarda, and Lawrence, who assumed command mid-battle after the death of more senior knights, routed the pirates. This was in large part due to his relations with the local merchants, fishermen, and townspeople. Their rapport resulted in mobilizing and training a civil defense of the city. The Lord of the Desert praised his victory saying, "Truly this one is fitted to his sigil, for he is a desert fox." For his efforts, Lawrence Kildare was named Knight Commander of the Fair Groves by his mother Emilie. As such, he is one of the foremost advisors to the Lady of the Fair Groves, now his sister Ginnifer, and often leads patrols through the Kildare lands to only ensure the peace and provide protection to their vassals—and to project Kildare power.

Update: Lawrence has been betrothed to Safia, daughter of Desmond Rolmar, the newly proclaimed King of the Mountains. After dispatching bandits attacking a farm in the Prairies, Lawrence and his party of Desertmen have continued their journey towards the Tower of Stone where King Desmond and Safia reside. One member of their party is Illiza, priestess to the god V'hallar, whom the majority of the Desert worship. Lawrence broke his vow of chastity with Illiza one night (a vow due to be broken in a matter of days upon his wedding), but rebuffed an advance made by Illiza to do so again on a subsequent evening. Lawrence now prepares to do battle with an unknown party that has been following the caravan.

Additional imagehere. Homeland: The MountainsKing: The King of the MountainsOccupation: PrincessFamily Banner:Royal blue background with a crown above a shield. The shield depicts an armored knight on horseback standing at the top of a mountain. The knight holds his sword above his head, pointed to the sky, and there is a broken chain on his ankle. The banner was re-designed when Desmond Rolmar proclaimed the mountains an independent kingdom and named himself king, to project his new position and signify his breaking away from Valona. The crowned knight of House Rolmar.House Words: “Having Power is not as important as what you choose to do with it.”Biography: Safia is the youngest child of Desmond Rolmar, King of the Mountains, and the only girl. Her mother died when she was born, and though her father appointed a tutor to teach her proper etiquette for a young lady of high birth, Safia preferred to practice sword-fighting and archery with her brothers, Karridanand Ectarion. She retains something of a tomboy streak, but will be ‘lady-like’ for official occasions.

Prior to the splintering of the kingdoms, Safia was betrothed to Matheus, Fenton Reynard’s eldest son and heir—though the match was arranged by their parents, Safia and her intended husband did develop feelings for each other over the span of their courtship. Unfortunately, their relationship ended when Safia’s father, dissatisfied with Reynard’s way of doing things, broke away from the Kingdom of Mirwyth and declared himself King of the Mountains. Usually a devoted and adoring daughter and a loving, playful sister, Safia has been distant and cold towards her father and brothers. Though she loves her father and understands his disdain for Reynard’s methods, she is torn between her loyalty to her father and her feelings for her former love, who, because of her father’s actions, is now her enemy.

UPDATE: King Desmond recently received and accepted a proposal of alliance to the Desert kingdom, to be sealed by the imminent marriage of Safia to Ser Lawrence Kildare, the Knight Commander of House Kildare and said to be one of the finest warriors in the desert kingdom. Now down to fifteen days until her wedding, Safia awaits the arrival of her betrothed, battling with conflicting emotions brought on by her lingering feelings for Prince Matheus, the vicious opinions of her brother Ectarion (vocally opposed to the marriage), disturbing rumors she has heard from her spoiled and jealous cousin Synthia regarding Ser Lawrence, whom she has never met, and his family, and an unnerving encounter with Ser Malcolm Granville, a Knight in her father's service. Her eldest brother Karridan has been her constant protector, confidant and one of her few sources of comfort and reassurance.

Name: Beldak Darkeyes Age: 28Gender: MaleAppearance:Homeland: His true homeland is unknown to him, but his earliest memory is of the Mountain Region, so he goes with that King:NoneOccupation: Assassin, thief, mercenaryFamily Banner: He doesn't really have a family banner, but his horde carries around a banner featuring two horned demons formed together at the neck and snarling. They are pitch black except for their eyes, which are glowing red. Beldak carries around a staff with the same depiction.House Words: He doesn't really know where he came from or who his house is, but he has adopted the following for his horde: That which does not kill us makes us strongerBiography: Little is known of Beldak's early life. He is unaware of his heritage or who his parents really are. Darkeyes, he is well aware, is not even his real name. It is something he adopted on his own after a hard life of slavery and torment growing up.

A life of slavery is not ideal for any young child, but Beldak endured and grew stronger. In fact, when he wasn't being tortured or worked to the point of exhaustion, he was taught tricks of the trade, such as pickpocketing, how to handle a knife and sword against an opponent, the use of simple tools and even how to ride a horse. Beldak was a good learner and soaked this all in while harboring a deep hatred for the leader of the band of fools that had enslaved him. And not just for that man in particular, but for his true parents as well, for selling him into such a life. His anger and bloodlust continued to kindle until he was 18 years old, when he finally snapped. He not only killed his master that day, but he took most of the organization with him.

From that point on, Beldak lived a life of crime, forming his own horde and wreaking havoc across the kingdom. In fact, it was sometimes hard to tell whether Darkeyes actually existed or was only a myth. He became a legend to certain circles and continues to roam the land today, working for the highest bidder or pursuing his own ideals. One thing has not changed, however - he is still hellbent on finding his birth parents and enacting revenge for the life they gave him.

UPDATE: A routine raid against a longtime rival soon turned into an unexpected journey when Beldak came across a burning homestead with a sole survivor. Anyanka appeared to be just another helpless victim of a harsh and unforgiving land and Beldak had every intention of taking advantage of that by offering her to his men for pleasure. With her fate becoming quite clear, Anyanka cried out for mercy and told the tale of a second survivor, her little brother, who had been abducted during the attack by another band of men on horseback. She agreed to give into Beldak's wishes in exchange for his assistance in finding the young boy. Beldak reluctantly agreed and the two began on a long journey across the wilderness in pursuit of the kidnappers. Along the way, they came across an old hag with some startling revelations about Anyanka's past and future. Beldak, becoming more and more protective of the maiden, came to her rescue and slayed the old hag and the rest of the village(including women and children) for their actions. With that incident behind them, Anyanka, Beldak and his horde grow ever closer to the kidnappers and now prepare for battle.

Homelandthe Isles: Particularly the easy one King : None Occupation: You need it, I got it, I get it, or I tell you it’s impossible. I move. (peddler) Family Banner:

House Words: Are you deaf? Are you blind? You need it, I got it, I get it, or it’s impossible. Understand? Biography: Born into a peddlers family he continues the practice that has been done by the family for seventeen generations, give or take a dozen, probably give. There is legend that one of the older generations members sold the tools for executions of important people and thus where cursed with the rest of those involved in the innocent execution to wander, each generation until they died and pass the curse onto those that follow after them.With that kind of wording even the employees that joined the business became cursed, part of the reason for the belly flop of negative 06’ as his uncle used to say. Many gave up just to end the curse their trade and business outright to save others. The Tuckman’s were made of sterner stuff. Thus the business continues as does the family to this day. So the legends that nobody cares about goes.His grandfather specialized in desert trade, his father in the mountains, and he has made his stake in the isles. Of course all Tuckman’s still gather at the capital four times a year in times of peace, and once sometimes in war, for a ‘fair trading meeting’. Alternating routes and generally rotations for the young to sink their teeth into commercially and trade route speaking wise are the main ‘family business’ draws. Glad for the isles route Abott learned to sail and keep the vagrant lifestyle going with a shanty on every other beach, and a tab at every Inn.Recently though he had an interesting encounter at a local Tavern, the Bloody Breeze or some such lovely establishment. His meal was poor, his drink was disturbed, and some muckity-muck decided to mingle with the commoners. Which led to more disturbed rest, although when the scabbard so nicely bejeweled with telling of wealth and having shared a tale of youth he was leaving. Despite the steel sword that followed the fella’ about business was able to be entered into! Miracles never cease and whoever gives them knows how to make them a curse. Mainly because the man was interested in the board, or rather a young dock worker that took more than a simple glance to tell it wasn’t a man.Anyway the following day he was able to find the interest of the scabbard and convince her to go through with it, largely by not trying to convince not to leave due to what it would mean. Kids these days, they jump without looking! But sometimes it works in your favor. Getting her there to the large building of royalty, decked with humorless guards and everything, he was able to deliver her on time to the Scabbard. Not only that but get another deal in place to do business for the entire Kingdom of the Isles! Blessings in curses, what would happen next was anyone’s guess, time would just have to reveal the flavor and savor of each. Granted so long as he wasn’t killed with all the fighting.

GM APPROVEDName: Lord Gordon “The Wise” CyrellAge: 32Gender: MaleAppearance:Homeland: The MountainsKing King of The MountainsOccupation: Ruler and StrategistFamily Banner : House Words: In truth and honor we existBiography: The House of Cyrell had always been strong in the reigns of the mountains. Long ago, The House Cyrell owned two castles including those in Cyrell. However, some of thier land was bout by the House gideon when House cyrell ran into financial trouble. The Cyrell still hold much land and had a second castle. The deal was fair for both houses and they have not gotten along with that house. Gordon had grown up with the best teachers and equipment. He was the second male born to John and Hilda (pictured below).

When we came of age father wanted no doubt as to whom he wanted to follow him so he was sent as a knight to King Reynard’s court. Gordon’s brother Kevin was meant to become the next lord of the Cyrell holdings. However, tragically his brother was killed by disease long before he had the chance to become lord. His father grieved by the tragedy recalled Gordon from King’s court, with the King’s blessing. He set out on the long journey home. He along with those sent to protect him came under attack. Having the necessary training he and his men reacted quickly blunting the attack. He had gained a scar and almost lost his life due to infection from a glancing sword blow on his shoulder. After that day Gorden swore he never be taken by surprise again and trained vigorously.

Gorden’s father had arranged his sons marriage so that one of the lords of the island was there ally. He was married to Helen Moonshade (pictured below left) and she was a lord’s daughter. They had a son Michael (pictured below right) and all was well within his sphere of influence.

Then the kings son came to power. He knew the kings son Fenton from his days in the capital and was not surprised by his ugly side. Fenton had no sense of the motivations of men or how to make decisions. The outrageous behavior of the King had splintered the nation. Gorden had no choice but to back King Romar even though he has qualms with it.

Name: Ser Andras MaegorionAge: 33Gender: MaleAppearance: Tall and broad-shouldered, with level grey eyes, Andras has almost shoulder-length black hair and a neat beard. His looks are, however, marred by lines of scarring running vertically down his cheeks on each side, too neat to have been done in the chaos of battle.Homeland(The Mountains, the Desert, the Isles, or the Capital City): The MountainsKing(King of the Mountains, King of the Desert, King of the Isles, the Rightful King, None): He goes where he's paid and follows who'll have him, but when doing his family's business his king is the King of the Mountains.Occupation: Wandering knight, messenger.Family Banner(if applicable, just describe): A raven on a field of white, clutching a sky-blue scarf.House Words(A saying the family uses): Vengeance Soars.Biography: There are facts to be had about Ser Andras of House Maegorion, and then there are stories.

First, the facts: it is known that he was born the fifth child of his family, and the third son. It is known that he grew strong, and clever, and skilled, swiftly attaining his knighthood. And it is known that, through some disagreement, he set out to make his own path, though he returns to his kin when called.

There are, however, the stories... yet they are not told by Andras himself, for Andras does not speak. It is said that his family, in conflicts, opposed another family, and yet there was one amongst these rivals for whom Andras felt no emnity. Here, the tales differ. Some say it was a beautiful maid, his true love sadly divided from him by politics. Others speak of a great warrior, as close as a brother in friendship. Still others speak of a mentor, one for whom he held great admiration. The most cynical suggest any esteem was only on his side, that the one he prized never knew or cared what he did.It is said that he was questioned by his kin, to give up some secret of their rivals - perhaps the location of this lodestone to his life, or perhaps a weak point discovered while meeting his companion. It is said that the scars on his face come from this questioning: punishment, perhaps, or simply a side effect of harshness.He does not speak, now, and there are many versions that tell why. Some say he bit out his own tongue rather than give up his secret. Others say that he did submit to the questioning, and has ever after remained silent in shame and guilt for the one he was forced to betray. Still others say that he witnessed the death of the one he admired, and horror drove from him all ability to speak thereafter.Whatever the truth may be, he is a silent man, and often grim. He still serves as a knight, but chooses from the pages and squires not the strongest or most martially inclined, but those who pass his one test; they must have wits quick enough to learn the hand-signs with which he speaks, and be ready to convey his words to others.

Ser Andras is formidable in battle, and does not lightly falter. He readily carries messages between the lands controlled by different factions; he is known to complete a task once set to it, and can be trusted to convey letters and the like between powerful folk. It is rumoured that not all of his messages are political; some smile to think of this silent man bearing notes and love-tokens between unlucky sweethearts, bridging the gulf carved by conflict. This may be no more than a rumour... or may be truth indeed.

There are those who call him the most honest knight in the land - after all, none have heard him speak a word of a lie.

Name: Keine StoneAge: 16Gender: MaleAppearance: With deep blue eyes and black hair, Keine's good-looking in a youthful way; beardless, he does look his young age, which has its charm yet also means he may have to wait a few years before people routinely take him seriously on first sight.Homeland(The Mountains, the Desert, the Isles, or the Capital City): The MountainsKing(King of the Mountains, King of the Desert, King of the Isles, the Rightful King, None): None - he goes where Ser Andras does.Occupation: Squire.Family Banner(if applicable, just describe): None.House Words(A saying the family uses): None.Biography: Even a bastard may become a hedge knight. And hedge knights may rise in prominence if they are skilled. This has long been the motivation of Keine Stone, son of a fletcher's daughter. He does not know who his father was, though his mother used to hint he was an important man.Truth be told, Keine doesn't much care, or tells himself he doesn't, at least. A father who won't even acknowledge him isn't much use except as a fantasy. He was raised by his mother, and by his grandparents, who cared for him after his mother took ill and died.His wits have served him well, and his determination to better his lot in life was rewarded when Ser Andras accepted him; Keine was quick to pick up Andras's hand signs, and earned his new position quickly as a result.He bears the hardships of their travelling life with wry acceptance, knowing the harder times are the price he's paying to change his life. Keine has grown accustomed to speaking for Ser Andras, and has developed an impressive voice and style of delivery, the better to convey the knight's words with the seriousness they deserve.Grateful to Ser Andras for giving him this chance at a better future, Keine is more loyal to his master than to any other - what have lords and kings ever done for him, anyway? Certainly not as much as Ser Andras has.Secretly, barely admitting it even to himself, Keine wonders if someone will ever step forward and acknowledge him, if he becomes a promising knight a father could be proud of. If not? He'll still have his sword, his wits, and his own path to walk.

UPDATE: With a raven from Lord Maegorion, knight and squire were sent into the troubles that had engulfed Harrowmont, arriving in time to save Malik Stone and young Rosa Sand from attackers. They have sent out messages of their own, warning all of what befell Harrowmont, and what may yet befall other mountain strongholds; Capitalmen burn their way through the lands, leaving destruction and death in their wake. But some may yet escape the chaos - and will, if Ser Andras and Keine have anything to say about it.

Homeland: Otosan (Land across the Western sea mostly considered to be myth)King: NoneOccupation: Wandering BodyguardFamily Banner (if applicable, just describe):House Words (A saying the family uses): We make war that we may live in peace.

Biography: Kenji stood on the railing of the ship looking across the water to the distant shoreline. He pondered his life and how he ended up here, on a ship bound for a foreign land. His family had been one of repute, of honor. He was taught the ways of the warrior and the scholar, and had served in his father’s house as Master of Arms. He continued to serve when his older brother Sato assumed his father’s place.
Conflict came, as it often does, in the form of a rival house. The two houses fought for years before there was an attempt at peace. But it was all a ruse, the rival house hired assassins to destroy Kenji’s clan. They were also to slaughter Kenji and the clan leaders as they returned from negotiations. Kenji was the only one to survive the ambush. Now clan-less and hunted, Kenji boarded a boat headed for the outer islands, but the assassins followed. Again Kenji was triumphant, but alone and without resources it was only a matter of time before he was killed. Disillusioned, Kenji stumbled upon a strange ship, crewed by even stranger men, from a land called Mirwyth. He managed to book passage in hopes that the assassins wouldn’t or couldn’t follow.
In the three months he had been on this ship,Kenji had managed to grasp the language, if a bit brokenly, and found that a man can earn a good living by his sword in Mirwyth. Kenji was brought out of his thoughts by the shouting of the sailors. It took him a second to sort the words out before he understood that they would be landing in Delmaristead by midday.
Kenji turned to go below deck to ready his equipment.

A few days before the Wedding of Ser Lawrence Kildare and Princess Safia Rolmar

The Capital

Valona

The King of Mirywth stepped onto the podium made of stone and jewels. His golden crown, encrusted with the eagle of his House, sparkled in the sunlight that beamed down from the heavens. The people of the Capital that had remained faithful to him were laid out before him. It was mandatory that they attend, and it had been announced for at least a week in advance. Those found not to have attended would be captured and made examples of like the few knights he had captured a few nights prior.

Not a smile, not even a ghost of one, touched the King’s lips. These were serious days in the kingdom. He looked out amongst the crowd, and slowly people realized they should be quiet. One man in the far back kept talking to another man, but he was silenced by a slap to the back of his head by a guard.

“As many of you know,” King Reynard boomed from his pedestal, “Our lands have been fractured in just the past few weeks. Several men who presume they know more about controlling Mirwyth than I, the one with royal blood, have declared themselves ‘Kings’. We all know them to be false.”

He grew silent, and many people cheered his name as they knew he expected it.

“I won’t let these vigilante men try to crack our lands down the middle. Their actions of corruption will not complete.” He smirked, and gestured to his oldest child, Matheus Reynard. The boy was obviously uncomfortable, but offered a reassuring smirk to the crowds. “My son is leading a march of our men to the Fair Groves, and then to Dawnsgrace. To betray us by supporting a false king was hard enough, but to then marry off a fine young knight to a daughter of another false king?”

For once, Reynard did grin.

“Retribution in the desert is only the first step. I plan on departing my brother to the Isles, specifically Delmaristead. The castle itself has always been a hindrance to the kingdom as a whole. Now that Lord Delmari has made himself and his people traitors, I shall personally make an example of them.”

“And last, but not least, I save a special treat for Lord Rolmar.” Reynard’s smirk didn’t falter once. “Once all of these traitors have been dealt with, and the people shaken to their senses, our kingdom can come back together as one under House Reynard.”

The crowds screamed and clapped, though it couldn’t be determined whether it was from excitement or fear.

As Reynard slipped off the podium with a flourish, Matheus realized it was probably some of both.

17 days before the Wedding of Ser Lawrence Kildare and Princess Safia Rolmar

The Mountains of Mirwyth

Cyrell

Helen Cyrell nee Moonshade strutted down the halls of her castle, heart pounding rapidly in her chest as she did so. Her husband was deep in council meetings on whether or not they should try to support the King of the Mountains by attending his daughter’s wedding. The Rolmar girl, from what Helen remembered, had been rather pleasant and kind when they visited Shodaire a few years past. Now, Helen knew, her husband would have no choice but to support Rolmar.

She came to the doors that entered the gala. The two guards who stood on either side of the door were both distantly related to her in some way, shape, or form, and she said her greetings to both. They were reluctant to open the doors, but when Helen gave them the news, the men unlatched it and almost pushed her in.

All the men sat gathered together around, going back and forth. The conversation faded though as they all noticed Helen standing there, still breathing heavily from her brisk walk. She pulled a strand of her hair behind her ear, sudden self conscious from all the stares, but mentally shook it off and spoke.

“Lord Cyrell,” she sighed, “I just received news. There’s been an attack on Harrowmont, and there were no survivors.” No one said anything. Maybe because Jowan Harrowmont, the Lord of House Harrowmont, had always been a kind and generous man. He had even taken in a bastard boy as his own.

“It’s Reynard’s men. They ride to pillage each and every castle, the messengers presumed, until they reach Shodaire. There. . .there they plan on capturing Lord Rolmar, his children, and Ser Lawrence Kildare.” All the men gathered would understand the gravity of the situation, seeing as they were one of the castles in between Harrowmont and Shodaire.

Gordon was disturbed by the implication of the situation as well as the fact that those that did this did not care who they killed. Gordon spoke with frown on his face, “This is not the kind of news I like to hear those who perpetrated this act have no honor. I see that the man who believes he should remain king is mad with power and deceit. No man who led with honor would act this way! ”

Gordon stood burning with anger, but yet attempted to contain himself. Gordon stopped and looked at the men and his wife and said, “We cannot just go after these men with a small force I believe that is exactly what they want us to do. We must gather together the forces of the mountains to act as one so that we can defend our homes and our lives. Therefore, I want messengers sent immediately to King Rolmar’s castle in the capital city to see what his disposition is for war. I also want messengers sent to every Lord and castle to determine there will to fight. Meanwhile, I want all the knights and fighting men that have sworn to protect me and my family assembled immediately!“

Gordon looked at each one the men standing in front of him and said, “I know that this may be a lot to take in, but we must act quickly for there is no time to waste. I shall speak to people this is nothing less than war.”

Gordon turned his wife, smiled, and said, “ I need more information on this of the group that attacked Harrowmount including the size of the group and who leads them if possible.”

12 days before the Wedding of Ser Lawrence Kildare and Princess Safia Rolmar

The Isles of Mirwyth

Delmaristead

Delmaristead was but a shell of its former self.

The queen and princess’s departure had kicked off a rebellion by the citizens. Apparently some spies planted by Reynard had helped encourage some of the islanders that all this ‘King of the Isles’ nonsense was useless, and that it’d be better to just surrender to the real king. So they had all planned just that.

Now many of the people who had formerly been in power on Delmaristead were in steel cells beneath the main castle. The harbors were being heavily guarded by men and women with amateur swords and knives.

When the shabby ship driven by traders approached the coast, the “guards” prepared themselves. As they docked, Sanjuro Kenji might have noticed the other men’s apprehension and confusion. It was supposed to be a simple supply pick up from a distant land, and now they return to their own people with weapons aimed at them.

“Come down one by one, with your hands held high!” One tall, burly man roared from below.

The men on the ship looked around, a little confused and frightened. They were about to back out of the harbor when an arrow suddenly flew onto the boat. It whistled past Kenji’s head.

“Get off the boat now!” The man was shouting even louder now. “You first!”

18 days before the Wedding of Ser Lawrence Kildare and Princess Safia Rolmar

The Mountains of Mirwyth

Near remains of the Castle of Harrowmont

On cool, crisp mornings, Harrowmont was a beautiful place, perched atop the mountain with its clean stone architecture and simple, happy noises from the courtyard. Children like Rosa Sand would run amongst the grass and snow, shrieking and giggling as they played simple games. Knights and guardsmen occasionally patrolled the area, or stopped for an occasional chat with a commoner. But most of the time, Lord Jowan Harrowmont himself came out there with a warm mug of some brew.

But this morning, for the first time in a long while, the courtyard and castle were silent. Lord Jowan didn’t come out to sip and stare at the sunrise. Children didn’t laugh and play. And the slight cling of a knight’s armor as he walked was not heard. The beautiful castle itself was crumbling, ashen, and blackened.

Ser Andras Maegorian and his squire Keine Stone had provided ample shelter for the other two travelers the night before amongst trees. It had been far enough away from the castle that they doubted they would be discovered, but they could still see its grim shape on the horizon. This morning, Malik Stone had awoken before all the others. Just yesterday he had been a bastard boy, and yet a true ruler of Mirwyth as well. Now his home was burned, and only he and the bastard girl Rosa Sand had survived. Odd thing, he thought, that out of everyone the bastards had survived.

When the others awoke, Malik gruffly greeted them, and yet all of them sat in silence.

“How. . .” Rosa almost spoke, and then paused for a second. She had just lost everyone she had known as well, and yet perhaps it wasn’t as hard for her. She met Malik’s eyes, and his look gave her the strength to continue speaking. “Why did they do that?” Malik looked like he considered answering, but then decided it would be better left to the knight and the squire. They were calmer than he at the moment.

Homeland: Otosan (Land across the Western sea mostly considered to be myth)King: NoneOccupation: Drunkard.Family Banner: House Words: No spirit, no world.Biography:Kojiro is the third son of a reasonably well-thought-of clan in Otosan. This did not, however, keep him from becoming the black sheep of the family: too tall for his regular instructors, seen as ungainly, the normal katana not suited to his personality. It was only when he chanced on the konobo that he found his favoured weapon: the greatclub, though he still holds his family two swords more out of habit than anything else.

It was over a woman that he wound up an outcast. Sake has taken much of the details, at least as our story opens. A woman who wound up dead; a man thirsting for Kojiro's blood; the promise of better fortunes in the West, where clan warfare meant hired blades were in demand. He's a grouser, doesn't care much for civility, and drinks whenever he has the chance.

This does not prevent his natural talent for war, though. And anyone thinking him an easy mark when drunk has, generally speaking, wound up with their head caved in to this point.

Truthfully, it was more or less by accident he wound up on the same ship that Kenji did. Half out of interest and half out of the several bottles of sake he had, he managed to stow away among the trade goods of the ship. Sanjuro Kenji paid for his passage when the crew discovered him; in normal terms a tremendous dishonour, but in the present conditions a good enough reason to stick around and make sure the younger man doesn't get himself killed.

Though he won't admit it, he's developed a certain attachment to his countryman: Kenji reminds him of an old childhood friend he had, and he needs someone to try and navigate this barbarian country they're apparently headed to.(Splinter and I are working on a combined post to start with at the moment...)

Kenji was a little curious about the gathering on the docks. Agitated men with weapons stood watching the ship come in. From the nervousness of the crew, Kenji deduced that this was not a normal occurrence. He was glad that he had chosen to don his armor. His daisho (two swords one shorter than the other) on his left hip, his yumi (asymmetrical longbow) strapped to his back and his naginata(long wooden shaft with a curved blade on the end) in his hand. Further observation of the men on the docks confirmed Kenji’s suspicions. While armed, they didn’t move like warriors and they held their weapons as if they were dangerous to both the wielder as well as an enemy.

Kenji grabbed a sailor that was hurrying past. “Go below. Bring Shima-san.” Kenji sent the sailor about his task and walked up to the Captain.

He found the Captain conversing with his helmsman, but he dismissed the man as Kenji approached. Kenji could see the worry in the man’s eyes. “This not a normal greeting then.” It was a statement not a question. The Captain nodded anyway. “There seems to have been some sort of trouble, that much is obvious, but I haven’t any idea what could have happened. I can say that those are not the regular guards.”

Kenji knew that, while the sailors of this ship were brave men, they were not warriors. It was a merchant ship after all. Normally he would not involve himself, but he had come to know some of these men. The Captain had even indulged Kenji’s desire to improve his language skills and had been teaching him.

Kenji turned at the sound of someone stumbling from below decks. From (somewhat bitter) experience, Kenji didn't think Kojiro was drunk. Even so, the big man had no armour on: he'd managed to get a dark, stained obi (robe) around himself, and his sash had his daisho shoved through it, but he was leaning heavily on his tetsubo (big club) and making some sort of groaning noise like pain.

He might, Kenji thought with sudden despair, not actually be wearing a loincloth under that.
Still, at least the man was armed. And at least Kenji could converse with him in Otosanie. “Kojiro-san, good to see you up and around--"

Kojiro grabbed his head with a free hand, squeezing his eyes shut, swaying. "Great Gods! The pain! For the love of the ten thousand islands, don't shout!"

Kenji sighed to himself. The only positive part about Kojiro being hungover was that it probably made him even more dangerous than when he was drunk. The younger man cleared his throat softly. "We seem to have a welcome party waiting for us.”

Kojiro rubbed his eyes, squinting past Kenji to see the group gathered on the docks. “Eh? Ronin?”
Kenji leaned on his Naginata a bit. “No, worse. Amateurs.”

Kojiro shook his head, rubbing his eyes again before peering out at the men waiting on the docks. He gestured at one sallow-looking youth. "That one looks like he picks his nose with his sword."

They were only a few dozen meters out when one of the armed men began shouting.

“Come down one by one, with your hands held high!”

Kojiro squinted at Kenji; he'd learned a little of the language of the barbarians, but that went more or less completely over the top of him.

Kenji saw the helmsman start turning and sailors were preparing for a quick escape. That was when one of the archers let an arrow fly. It whistled past Kenji and knocked into the mast. Kenji didn’t move, didn’t even flinch, although his tolerance for these people was growing strained. Thuggish tactics and simplistic intimidation, these people really were amateurs.

“Get off the boat now!” The man was shouting even louder. “You first!” He was pointing straight at Kenji. The ship was close enough now that a gangplank had been placed. Kenji glanced at Kojiro, giving a nod towards the armed men gathering towards the foot of the gangplank.

Even hungover, Kojiro was a student enough of Otosan tradition to get the point. The big man put his tetsubo (iron studded great club) across his neck, resting his hands on either side, and stalked towards the gangplank. A low growl was building in the back of his throat, and the boards of the gangplank rattled as he marched down, barefoot. Kenji took a second to judge the opposition -- yes, as he'd hoped. Kojiro was unarmoured, but down there he'd likely also make a much harder target for whichever archer had loosed the arrow a moment before.

Kenji leaned his Naginata against the railing as Kojiro moved. While the “guards” watched the big man approach, Kenji surreptitiously readied his yumi. With yumi in hand, but below the railing and out of sight, he addresses the shouting man. He kept his eyes scanning the crowd though, trying to find the archer. If this descended into violence that archer would be his first target.

Once ready, he addressed the man that had shouted. “Why you hostile towards own people? These men not seen home for long time. When they see home, it shows them steel. Why?”

For his part, Kojiro didn't quite get the majority of the barbarian-speak that Kenji was making, largely due to the smith's hammer that was presently smashing away at the inside of his skull. Even so, he'd picked up a little of the tongue. There'd been a phrase, a greeting apparently, that the merchantmen of the boat used with each other now and then. It seemed appropriate for occasions of tension, and even when Kojiro was drunk it had seemed to defuse some hostile situations. He'd listened; practiced it. Now, with a small cluster of amateurs doubtless moving in towards him, he noisily cleared his throat, spat, and pronounced it:
"**** you."

Keine looked at the young girl helplessly. Why had the Capitolmen slaughtered the folk of Harrowmont? He couldn't even understand it himself. It had been shocking in a way none of his other fights had been. Always before, it had been a cleaner battle of some kind, where he knew what to do. They hadn't always managed to save everyone they'd found in need of help, but at least they'd been able to try. And they'd had allies, or the enemy had been weaker - petty bandits and the like.

He looked over to Ser Andras, who shook his head slowly and made a number of careful handsigns.

The squire turned his gaze back to Rosa. "Because their King sent them. And Kings... not all of them care about ordinary people. Not properly. Just as numbers. On their side, the numbers keep things running. On any other side, the numbers are just targets in the way of their goal." His voice wavered a bit as he reached the end of his master's words, and had to find his own. "I don't know why they chose Harrowmont. But I wish we could have done more. I'm sorry." He bowed his head, shoulders tense with misery.

Ser Andras touched his arm lightly to get his attention, and gave a few more signs.

Keine glanced between Rosa and Malik. "But you're alive, and we'll do our best to keep you that way. And Ser Andras, he says, we'll teach you some, of how to fight and such. Better you can defend yourselves, safer you'll be, both of you."

Not everyone, likely, would have included Rosa in that offer. But Ser Andras was a Maegorion, and for numerous generations Maegorions had trained the women of their family to use blades; a Maegorion lady typically carried at least one dagger to defend her life, her virtue and her children if danger threatened. Ever since the death of a young Maegorion woman at the hands of her abductors, the family had done their best to see to it that it would never happen again. It therefore seemed purely natural, to Andras, that a young girl should learn how to protect herself from an often violent world.

Family Banner: Rearing gryphon on yellow background, bordered by red roses and thorns.

House Words :“Fallaces sunt rerum species” (The appearances of things are deceptive.)

Biography: Diana was a daughter of a lord who was good friends with the King of the Isles. Her mother was absent most of her life, running off and having affairs with other men. Her mother’s shadow followed her when she first entered the court, so her death did not bother her. She was trained along with her brother in combat; even going to the desert regions for extra specialized training. It was there when she received the news that their father had passed. So her brother then inherited the title of lord and she, lady. While at court the King of the Isles asked for her for a private audience. He explained that he planned to take control of the Isles and need all the support he could get. He asked her to become his personal assassin; to become his secret eyes and ears in the court. She would kill enemies where his knights would be ineffective, too public, or inappropriate. She would pursue traitorous commanders, rebellious leaders, or other internal or external threats. In exchange he would provide for all her and her family’s needs and to also make sure she was in a very high position within his government when his conquest was complete and stable. She knew it was a high gamble; one that may very well result in her death, but the payoff was considerable and it was too good a chance to pass up.

Update: After assassinating a trio of spies and learning of an impending attack, Diana found herself at a cross roads when the Queen asked for her help in escaping into the mountains after the marriage of her daughter. Diana agrees, all the while planning to actually kill the queen in order to maintain the strength of the royal family, but this is all derailed when a coup takes place as the Quean and princess leave for the wedding. Now Diana finds herself in hiding waiting for the right moment to regroup and strike back at the amateur rebels, finally putting an end to their foolishness and putting her king back into power.

15 days before the Wedding of Ser Lawrence Kildare and Princess Safia Rolmar

The Prairies of Mirwyth

Open Field

The battle lines had been drawn on the open prairies even before the opposing bandits had arrived.

The illustrious priestess, with her vibrant red robes flapping in the wind, stared out at the sun. All of the knights could tell, just by how much slack remained on her dress, that she had lost a steady amount of weight in the past few days. Illiza could’ve associated it with less food because they were traveling, but she knew there was another reason entirely. Ever since Ser Lawrence Kildare, the commanding knight on the trip and also the upcoming groom, had denied her a night in his arms, Illiza had watched herself virtually wither away. They had met a woman giving birth, and Illiza had tried to save her. It seemed as if her prayers went unnoticed, and the babe died.

Rickard had noticed all of this. Just a young, fresh knight himself, he was perhaps the most perceptive out of his peers, and could see changes in both the priestess and the knight. Dark, unwelcome changes. He knew Illiza cried her nights away. And then there was the little boy mixed up in all of it. A peasant boy who’s family had been murdered. Rickard finished shining his sword, glancing from each of the others as he did so.

And Ser Lawrence was caught in the slew of things. Betrothed to a princess, attracted to a priestess, entrusted with a caravan on knights. It was surprising he hadn’t buckled under the pressure.

Meanwhile, only a small bit away, a young peasant woman, Anyanka, finished her brisk sparring lessons with the bandit leader Beldak Darkeyes. Though she was not a pro, she had learned a few last minute tips and tricks that would help on the battlefield. As she laid her weapon down on the ground, panting, she eyed Beldak. They had a strange relationship going for them, one riddled with complication and confusion.

Now, all that was left was for Beldak to give the final word to march.

The early morning mist was so thick that you could take a blade and slice right through it. It hung heavily on everyone in the camp and it made them sluggish. In many ways, Beldak viewed it as a bad omen or some sort of sign from the gods that blood should not be shed this day. But when did Darkeyes ever take advice from the gods or listen to the signs in the stars? The gods did not care about Anyanka's little boy. They allowed him to fall into the hands of murderers in order to suffer. What Darkeyes was about to do was above and beyond anything the so-called gods had achieved. He was a saint compared to them and that wasn't saying much for a man with his track record. It was a wonder Anyanka had even trusted him at all.

Blowing out a heavy sigh in the midst of saddling his horse, Beldak allowed his steady gaze to cross the field to the young woman responsible for this whole campaign. Anyanka was a curious creature and even at this juncture, Beldak was uncertain of what she meant to him. She started as just a commodity item to serve his needs, but something happened. Last night, around the campfire, she became a person. He bonded with her through the art of swordplay and ultimately handed her his brother's blade to use in battle. That had to count for something.

She caught him staring and ashamed of such a quiet moment, Beldak looked away as he concealed a smile. He had to keep telling himself that it was an impossibility that she would make it through the battle unscathed. It was foolish to get his hopes up. In fact, it was foolish to think that they would even rescue the boy at all. This was for revenge - for the blood, pure and simple.

With everything else under control, Beldak mounted his horse and rallied his men behind him. They rode, then, through the gray mists and out into the open fields, where destiny awaited them.

19 days before the Wedding of Ser Lawrence Kildare and Princess Safia Rolmar

The Deserts of Mirwyth

Near Aqarda

“A course there’s a village nearby!”

Burney, or Emmitt as he liked to be called, pointed off in the distance, over several heavy dunes. He was a small man, like Ser Kaleb Sand had described him as. Scrawny, short, and afflicted with horrible language, there wasn’t much going for the man. But he did know his directions.

“Yes, there is a village just a little bit away from here. Not much in size, but they have some of the best food.” Ser Kaleb grinned at just the thought. Unlike his counterpart, Ser Kaleb could be described as dashing, and very robust. He looked very much like Lorain in size. “We’ll show you the way there, if you wouldn’t mind. I’m mighty parched as it is. That alright with you men?” Burney voiced his approval of the idea with some very strange noise.

But the maester had yet to say anything. He eyed Lorain for several seconds, as if looking deep “into” her soul. Finally he moved his gaze away and nodded at Kaleb. Though something was strange about him. And about the rest of them as well.

Lorain Ashkey
The Coast near Aqarda - The Deserts of Mirwyth - 19 Days before the wedding.

The answer to Lorain's question came swiftly. "A course there's a village nearby!" The one they called Burney blurted out, as he pointed off in the distance. "Yes, there is a village just a little bit away from here. Not much in size, but they have some of the best food."

Ser Kaleb grinned at the thought. The man was about the same size of herself, with bright orange hair to boot, Lorain noted. Emmitt or Burney, a bit smaller. And then there was the one with blondish grey hair, who just simply stared at her. The one they called Master Daven.

Ser Kaleb continued, "We'll show you the way there, if you wouldn't mind. I'm might parched as it is. Thats alright with you men?" he asked the others. Burney made a strange noise. Master Daven said nothing, but continued to stare. To the point of it being darn near rude. Finally, he moved his gaze away, and nodded at Kaleb. Lorain did not like that man at all. There was something of it, that just set her nerves off. And why was he so insistent on why she had been swimming? Had she not explained that she had escaped from a ship?! She suddenly had a dread thought, that these guys might have a connection with these pirates. She hoped not.

But the most disturbing thing, was the crest that they wore. While in the desert, Lorain had not involve herself into the politics of the lands...but she knew things were changing. The rumblings of war had been in the air. They had been in the city to pick up special metal, to make weapons. So she would have to be very careful here. At least. as an escaped prisoner from a pirate ship, it should provide her with enough of an excuse to be out of sorts. But without funds, she would have to hope, that she could barter her skills for a meal. But right now, she would treat these two with a WIDE berth. And she would need to find a weapon. Or make one. Either way, she knew she would need one soon.

With a cough, she slowly stood, testing her legs. Taking in a deep breath, she looked off in the direction that had been pointed. "Thank ye, for your kindess, Ser. I think I've drank enough to last me, but a bit of food sounds a good fit." she said as she wrang some water from her clothing. "That, and a chance to dry off, be much appreciated."